


Hellbound

by TheChozo



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Superwho, Superwholock, Wholock, superlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27682505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChozo/pseuds/TheChozo
Summary: The Future: Clara comes to Sherlock with a problem: the Doctor’s missing. For this case, Sherlock can’t do this alone, though.The Present: For the Winchester brothers, running into a time traveling alien and his companion wasn’t in the plan. But at the mention of a space ship that disappeared without a trace in the year 2070, they can’t say no. But this adventure may turn out to be more than they bargained for.The Past: Sherlock finds his most intriguing case yet. It’s all because a man with black eyes and a jawbone for a knife committed the crime right in front of him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sherlock Holmes/Dean Winchester, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Sorry this fic isn't finished yet, I have half of it written and half of it stuck in my brain god-knows-where. It's my first fic so please tell me what you think! Thank you!

**The Future**

2017

**  
**  


Sherlock pressed the bow harder against the strings, hoping to drown out the insistent ring of the doorbell coming from downstairs. A normal client would have stopped by now, be on their merry way, and left him alone. But not this one, something was different about this one. Mrs. Hudson wasn't home yet. What was she good for, leaving him to answer his door by himself? Sherlock didn't understand. The violin drowning them out should be evidence enough for them that he was busy and they should come back later. But after one more set of insistent knocking, Sherlock finally put his violin down in a huff. He stormed downstairs so he could politely tell them to go away, until he opened the door-

-and saw who it was.

Red lipstick bright as a berry with straight brown hair and impatient eyes. Eyes that had seen the universe.

Clara Oswald.

“Dear God.” 

Sherlock tried to shut the door the moment he saw her, but her stubborn foot kept the cold air bustling in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he said, eyes shut tight, head resting against the door that couldn’t keep her out.

“Oi!” A hand made its way on the edge of the door, pushing it open with one effortless sweep, pushing him back.“Nice to invite me in, yea?”

“No, Clara, I’m warning you-” He stepped back and pointed at her.

She looked at him up and down. “Who wears a dressing gown and three in the afternoon?”

“Clara, kindly escort your way out or I will be forced to-”

“-The Doctor’s missing, Sherlock,” she interjected.

A beat. He stared her down.

“Not my problem,” he said without compassion. He started backing up towards the stairs. Maybe he could lose her.

“Sherlock-” Clara scoffed. 

“What, you think I’ve just ‘seen him around?’” He said retreating step by step up the stairs now.

“No, I want you to help me-”

“Help you?” He turned around, laughed. “I think not. It is impossible to find that man.”

“That’s why I came here, Sherlock. You must have some idea, you can find anyone!” She was matching every stride, she was determined.

“Not him, Clara. Not him.”

They were interrupted at Mrs. Hudson stepping through the door. She started when she saw Clara.

“Ooh! New client, is it?” She whispered, excited.

“No, not exactly, Mrs. Hudson. Clara was just leaving.”

“Sherlock, that’s not how you treat a client.”

“Yeah, Sherlock, it’s not how you treat clients,” Clara smirked.

“You’re not a client- She’s not a client. I thought I just said that?”

“How about you join us for some tea, deary?” Mrs. Hudson offered.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Sherlock had no choice but to let her into his flat. He sat across from her on his couch, a coffee table between them while Mrs. Hudson did her business.

“Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s John?”

“He’s visiting his sister at the moment. We had a run in recently… Well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Never thought you’d be one for the domestic life, Sherlock.”

“Babies can do that to a person.”

Clara studied him for a moment, almost contemplating what to say next. She took a breath.

“I understand why you don’t want to help me, Sherlock-”

“Do you now-”

“But something’s wrong. And I need to find him soon.”

“After he told me what was going to happen when I meet him again, I don’t think so.”

“Sherlock-”

“Clara.”

She paused again, knowing he was a step away from shutting her down forever. 

Sherlock was the first one to speak.

“He’s a time traveler, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m sure he popped off in some uncharted planet, wasting his days away-”

“He doesn’t do that.” Clara breathed. “He doesn’t take breaks.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you. It’s been a year since I last saw you. No phone call, no note, no one dropping in. After what I’ve seen, after telling me  _ what I am  _ how can you just leave someone there to process all of that?”

She was silent.

“Ah.” She was clearly uncomfortable. “Right. You do it all the time. Burst into someone’s life, out of the blue. Help them, leave them there, their whole perception of reality changed-”

“Sherlock.”

“Clara...”

“...I know he gave you his screwdriver.”

Surprised, Sherlock’s lips unstuck. “How-”

“Never mind how I know, he obviously trusts you. “

“No, he trusts  _ you _ . And yet you have no idea where he is either. So I suggest that you get it _ through your head _ that I don’t have any clue to where he is.”

Clara looked down at her hands. “I’m not leaving until you find him.”

“Then welcome to London.”

“Sherlock…” Clara pleaded.

“Clara…”

“Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said.

She was different than he last saw her. More subdued. Less of a chatty cathy more of a… well….

Harder to read. Much harder to read.

“For once can you not think about yourself?” Clara suddenly said.

Her outburst gave him pause. 

“Don’t try to turn this on me. You’re the one who lost him. You’re the one that he left. This has nothing to do with me.”

Clara tensed up, angry. “He. DIDN’T. Leave me.”

“That’s what he does, doesn’t he?” Sherlock said, striking on the nerve. “Jump to one companion to the next. You’ve seen them. You’ve spent all this time wondering when he’s going to leave you and now that it’s finally happened you refuse to accept the truth that he doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Don’t try to read me.”

“Apparently, I can’t help it. It’s all true, isn’t it?”

Clara was seething silently, fists clenched, her shoulders moving up and down slightly. Frustrated more with herself than with him or the Doctor.

“It’s just. You’re my last resort. I’ve looked all over the-… All over. And no one knows where he is.”

“Clara-“

“I’m not leaving!” Clara looked close to tears. “My God, I’ve spent so long looking for him, I’m not giving up now.”

Sherlock closed his eyes, knowing it was useless to ask her to leave. She would eventually come to her senses. 

Clara sat back down again, obviously trying to compose herself. For a few minutes, they were silent as Mrs Hudson brought out the tea. 

“She’s not a client, is she?” Hudson whispered to him. Clara’s eyes were closed, but Sherlock gave her a long look as she set down the tray. After that, Hudson backed out of the room, knowing when people were there, she wasn’t supposed to be around.

The Doctor’s abandonment was fresh on Clara’s mind. She thinks he owes her a goodbye.

Sherlock left her there, his tea untouched to continue his practicing. Clara eventually left her spot to sit on the couch to watch and mull. She really didn’t know when to give up. 

He really didn’t know how to find the Doctor. He didn’t have a reality warper in his spare room, nor did he know how to get one. The only way something would work was to get his attention. But he also didn’t have aliens that he could let loose on the world. Unless he could find some. Which was a problem all by itself.

Clara seemed older. Didn’t she? Wiser. She really had grown in the year he last saw her. No more faith in the Doctor. He guessed she lost all of that in her search. Did he not want to find her? Maybe he left her for a reason. Not to get killed. Very likely. Too attached. Obsessive. Also likely, but he certainly was spending too much time encased in his work. He knew nothing of the Doctor’s and Clara’s relationship, let alone any human’s. Right… The Doctor wasn’t human. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He certainly looked human. But he wasn’t…

Was it possible for something else that wasn’t human to find him?

Sherlock let the last note on his violin ring into silence. He looked, or rather, finally processed what he was seeing out the window. How did the sky get so dark in just a few minutes? He turned back to Clara. She hadn’t left. She was dozing on the couch, head in her hand, as a matter of fact. She would wake up with soreness in her wrist. His arms felt heavy. 

It didn’t matter now. His mind had found something and it drew him in on a name. A name he didn’t want to remember.

Dean.

Dean, Dean, Dean. 

Why was he thinking about Dean?

Something Dean said…

Something…

Sherlock closed his eyes as he sorted through miles of conversation as if he was programmed to. He had stored these for ages, it seemed like. Sherlock pushed back his feelings about them and instead focused on the task at hand. 

What was it, what was it? Where is it? Where is what? 

_ Angels. _

Ah.

_ “-Cas…” _

_ “-Castiel.” _

Sherlock eyes flew open. There was an assortment of creatures and such out there, he knew that well enough now. But he didn’t know for certain that angels existed.

But if one thing could find a mad man in a box it was certainly an Angel of the Lord.

Sherlock did something he'd never thought he'd do. He sat down-

-and he prayed.

**The Present**

January 22, 2016

Dean stared at the red blinking numbers of the motel alarm clock. The clock was busted, that was for sure. It was a whole five hours and twelve minutes behind. He did the math in his head. Because he couldn't sleep. Which was odd, in this case, because he had been dreaming about hell. He hadn't had a nightmare about hell in years. 

Dean sure had his share of sleepless nights. Endless hours staring at the ceiling or trying to match his brother’s breathing in the next bed over. Never worked, of course. No, he gave up counting sheep long ago.

His mind unperturbed by sleep, he had time to think about other things. Things he didn't want to think about. Like the Darkness. Why hadn't he killed her when he had the chance? Was it the connection thing she kept talking about? He never wanted to become buddy-buddy with something that could end the entire universe. 

And he knew he kept saying no to Sam about the Cage over and over again, but what if Lucifer  _ was _ the only way to defeat Amara? The things it would do to Sam when he saw Lucifer, though… Dean may have spent his fair share in hell, but it sure

as fuck wasn't with the devil himself. 

The end of the world was coming and he and his brother didn't know how to stop it. Jesus, this was starting to become a habit with them. 

And God…? If there was ever a time the Winchesters needed Him, it sure as hell was now. The visions to Sam weren't enough. They were unclear and unhelpful. But Dean really knew the Cage wasn't the answer he wanted to hear to all this. All he wanted to do in life was protect his baby brother. Dean was starting wonder if he could even do that anymore. 

In the Impala later in the morning, Dean felt the restlessness of last night creeping up on him. The conversation with his brother helped him snap out of it a little.

“I’m not changing the license plate.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, man, we’ve been going around this car for years. It doesn’t exactly blend in.”

“What, you want us to get a new car now?”

“No, I don’t want to get a new car, I want you to get new license plates.”

“What’s wrong with the license plates? I change the license plates all the time!”

“It’s always Kansas, though.”

“Kansas? What’s wrong with Kansas? You have something against the place we were born in?”

“No, Dean, I don’t have anything against Kansas. I just think it’ll be less noticeable if we have a slightly different car.”

“I told you, I’m not getting a new car.”

“Oh my God. Dean. You’re impossible.”

“And you're delusional for thinking I’m ever getting rid of this car.”

Sam just rolled his eyes with a smile and got back to work.

“Here's something,” he said after a moment, looking at his laptop in the passenger seat of the Impala. Sam was using the hotspot, damn him. That costs money. “Reports of a skier- the same skier- crashing violently down one of the slopes, multiple times. Each time, she mysteriously disappears when medics or people that saw the crash from the lift get there. Sounds like our thing.”

“Maybe.” Dean said. “Could be a hoax.” He pointed out. 

“No trace of any blood buried under the snow or anything. I don’t think anyone would have a reason to make a hoax. And jeez, how can you fake something like that?”

“Okay. Sure, let’s take a crack at it. Where we going?”

“Monarch Mountain. It’s twenty miles west of Salida, Colorado.”

“Great.” Dean sighed. “Skiing. You know I hate snow, right?”

“What? When did this happen?” Sam asked incredulously. 

“Uh, since forever! It's cold and wet and gets everywhere-”

“I think you're confusing snow with sand.” Sam laughed. 

“Yeah, I wish I was, Sammy. When's the last time we went to a friggin’ beach? I'd rather have my feet in the water than having to choose which fingers to keep.”

“Oh come on, Dean, it's not like we're going to Antarctica or anything.”

Dean scoffed. “Might as well be where we’re headed. Colorado? Come on... Did you know there’s different types of snow? The powdery stuffs’ so stupid, you can’t make anything cool with that shit.”

Dean stopped ranting when he realized Sam was laughing at him. Dean was about to make a snappy retort at him when he couldn't help but chuckle along.

“Man, it feels like we haven’t laughed in ages.” Sam said.

Dean's smile faltered when he realized it was true. The last case, with Sully, had nothing to laugh about.

“Jesus, Dean, are we that lame?” Sam said, half joking.

Dean paused for a few seconds, staring at the road. “No way, Sammy. We just haven't had the opportunity to burn the midnight oil recently. Well, the fun side of burning the midnight oil.”

“...We're not getting old, are we, Dean?”

“Hell no! We're not getting old officially until we're fifty. That's the deal.”

Sam chuckled, once. “Sure thing, Dean.”

Neither of them wanted to question if they were going to live that long. 

Dean's mind immediately went back to the case to get both their minds off of that. “Jeez, what are we even supposed to pose as for this thing? FBI investigating what? A mirage? Forest Rangers? Shit, we don't even know how to ski.”

Sam shrugged. “I know how to ski.”

“What? Since when? Dad never took us.”

“Yeah, well, Dad never knew how to have fun either.” Sam glanced at Dean. “Skiing trip with friends. When I was at Stanford, winter break.”

“Really?” 

Sam nodded. 

“Was Jess there?”

“...Yeah. 

\---

Her name was Jenny Foster. Jenny had been an Olympic hopeful until an ACL injury dashed those dreams into oblivion. At the age of 23, she had long since recovered but still felt that death-defying itch that few people get. Jenny had traveled to Monarch Mountain from Boston alone. There have been plenty of missing snowboarders and skiers, but Jenny was a special case. Caught in a snowstorm in the February of last year, Jenny was last seen by her recognizable yellow coat going down the most dangerous part of Monarch Mountain: a place the resort calls Mirkwood. Swindled with trees and unplowed terrains, the real extreme sport goers only venture out into Mirkwood and beyond the ski area boundary, where the patrols don't even go. Once her family realized she was missing, there was search party after search party that looked everywhere around the mountain, but no one could find her. Officials say that her body could be buried beneath the snow, lost forever. And now, someone with the exact coat, technique, and form as Jenny was seen at least twice skiing down a run. Then tripping. And falling. And crashing. Then dying. And what all those people could do who saw her above in the lift, was only scream. 

\---

“This sucks.” Dean says as he looked outside, into the cold. It was snowing hard, well, at least hard by snow standards. All Dean could see was a flurry of white and the silhouettes of some trees and the ski lodge in the distance from the parking lot.

“Oh come on, man.” Sam said. “Don’t give me shit about this case just because it’s cold. Whatever's happening here is scaring a lot of people.”

“Hey, it’s not like anyone is getting hurt, okay? 

“Well, it’s...bad for their business.”

“Are you kidding me, Sam? You want to help this place because it’s bad for this place?”

“Look, I just want to take my mind off of what happened in Wisconsin. Sully brought up some memories for me… And, they weren’t exactly good.”

Dean’s gaze slipped. Sam had told him he was 9 when Sully, a Zanna and Sam’s imaginary friend, appeared. Their dad and Dean had left Sam behind during a lot of their hunts back then. Old enough to leave alone; too young to be brought along. Dean felt especially guilty when he remembered the excitement of finally learning to hunt with his dad- and not be stuck in some hotel room with Sam annoying the hell out of him.

Sam sighed and looked out the windshield at the snow. “I just need to get back in a groove again. I felt like that was a bump that was too unexpected.”

“Okay.’ Dean nodded. “I mean, I’ll do anything to get you back in your ‘groove’ again, man.”

Sam cracked a smile. “Hey, don’t make fun of my frickin’ word choice.”

“What? What do you mean? You’re supposed to be the smart one, you know.”

Sam rolled his eyes and tossed him a fake ID. “Just get into character.” He said as he opened the Impala’s passenger door.

“Character? We have characters now?” Dean said, getting out also.

“Well, you think how long we’ve been doing this?” The car door closed with a slam. “ People have got to pick up our mannerisms or something, we do the same thing every time. We’re bound to get noticed eventually.”

“Oh.” Dean thought for a moment. “Can I have an accent?”

Sam glared at him. “No.” 

Dean grinned and checked his name on the ID. Page. It was just a drivers license, not an actual press badge or something or other. Sam said no one would question if they were actual journalists or not. It felt strange not going in without a suit. He sort of liked playing the FBI agent.

No one seemed undeterred from the flakes except for Dean. It seemed like it fueled these crazy people even more. He hardly saw any kids here. Wasn’t skiing for kids?  _ These courses must really be crazy  _ he thought to himself. What he could glimpse through the snow amazed him. The mountain was huge- and steep. He couldn’t see any human possibly skating down that thing, but there they were. 

Dean got the first shape of the lodge through the storm. It was looming, dark. Maybe it was just the pelting snow that made it look that way, but it felt a little too  _ Shining _ for him. Dean followed Sam out of the parking lot and onto the impacted snow, heading towards the lodge entrance. Hopefully they could catch an employee and question what’s been happening.

“Frankly, I think it’s a hoax. A prank, that’s all it is.” Carl, the customer service helper said.Dean was glad of the heat the lodge provided. He didn’t think he survived the walk from the car to there.

“Then can you explain why no one else on the lift saw her?” Sam asked him. “No people, no cover up, just...nothing?” 

“...No. It’s just that… well, come on, I don’t believe in ghosts, that shits’ not real. Sorry… you won’t put  _ that _ in the article, will you?”

“No problem.” Sam looked at his notes. “Can you tell me where the incidents were seen from?”

“The Garfield lift, I think. It’s right over Examiner.” Carl looked sideways for any customers that were near. “You know,” his voice dropped a volume level lower. “There was a couple asking about the same thing. Could be just tourists or some ‘paranormal experts’ or whatever, but I think they were after the same thing as you guys are. Kept giving each other excited looks. Which is really creepy. He’s like, 30 years older than her.” Dean looked at Sam, who was giving him the same quizzical expression.  _ Hunters? _

“They had accents, though, so I think you’re good. But don’t let them steal your story. This is an American story, one for the books.”

Sam nodded and hid his judgment. “Thanks. We’ll keep an eye out.”

They both turned away. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asked Sam as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Yeah. Death echo.” An oldie. Almost straight from dad’s journal. “If Jenny’s missing, then her body must be still on the mountain.” They pushed open the double glass doors and stepped out into the frigid air. Dean realized what the missing body meant.

“Holy shit, Sam, this place is  _ huge _ ,” Dean said, once out of the lodge and looking at the mountain. “There’s no way we’re gonna find Jenny here.”

“Her family said she was a daredevil. Maybe she’s in Mirkwood.” Sam looked in the direction of the mass of trees, ones that looked so thick that it was impossible get through covering a mountain ridge that blocked the view of the most dangerous part of the park. Nothing easy in Mirkwood, all black diamonds and no easy way down. A deathtrap to a couple of ametuer skiers- like themselves.

“Sam.” Dean looked at his brother, kind of pissed off that he was thinking that they would seriously go into there. “Can you imagine, us, going through  _ that  _ place? It’ll be suicidal. We’ll get ourselves killed, for sure. I mean, come on, they couldn’t even find her when the snow melted, how do you think we can find her  _ now?” _

“I don’t know, Dean. The only other option we have is to shock her out of her loop, and how can we do that? Even if we happened to be where the echo shows up next, the last time I checked, that’s nearly impossible to do unless we got somebody who knows her, and they all live in Boston. I think we got a greater chance at finding her body then trying to convince one of them to come to the place where Jenny last was. To them, she’s very likely dead.” Sam let out an annoyed breath through his nose. “Look, I’ll try looking for a spell that could find her body. I don’t know if I’ll get anything, but... it’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, but it won’t do us no good if we don’t learn to ski.” Dean said, looking around at the people.

“I know how to ski.”

“Oh, come on, that was ten years ago, you think you still know now?” Dean said when he caught Sam’s stare.

“What do you expect us to do, join the skiing school?”

“Jesus, let's just rent the damn skis and ask around some more.”

\-----

_ “ _ I mean, we get false alarms all the time, but nothing like this.” Hank, a member of the ski patrol said.

“False alarms…?” Dean asked. They were sitting in the lodges cafeteria, where other skiers and snowboarders took their afternoon break for lunch. With all the activity and people, Dean was starting to feel the heat.

“Oh, just, people that fall but aren't really hurt. We get those mostly on patrolling the courses. But I don't think we've ever gotten three calls in a row in which the patient just ran off.” He was talking about Jenny.

“Hm. So, uhh…” Dean said, looking for something to wrap up the interview. “Do you really think it's Jenny Foster? You know her...ghost?”

“Oh, I'm sure of it.” He surprisingly said. “We didn't find her last year, and now she's come to terrorize us all.”

“Well, uh, that's one way to look at it.” Dean said, giving an uneasy smile. “So you were here, last year. When she went missing?”

“Oh, yeah, I was with one of the search parties. We spent weeks looking for her. Mirkwood, out past the boundary, everywhere. But-” Hank threw up his hands. “No cigar. It's a shame. I heard she was a good skier. I gotta tell you man, if she keeps showing up, I’m going to request a transfer.”

Feeling less than satisfied, Dean left the interview sensing the job to come. No one was getting hurt; not their usual deal, but it was still a job. But they couldn’t keep running around in circles forever around Amara.

Dean caught up with Sam over by the rentals. Sam asked him how it went.

“A whole lotta nothin’.” Dean said. “They don’t know jack about where her body is.”

“Well, if we’re gonna look for it, we might as well learn how to ski.”

“Yeah, as if we’re ever gonna get a case like this again for the rest of our lives. Don't you think we’re wasting our time?”

“I don’t know, Dean, it really seems like we have to.”

Dean grumbled something about getting too old for this shit which caused Sam to roll his eyes. “Come on,” Sam said. “Let’s hit the slopes.”

The slopes, thankfully, turned out to be the bunny hills first, which got them both warmed up pretty good. After a few runs, Dean saw the hang of it- shift your weight, use the poles for balance, feel the wind whipping past you when you got enough speed. It was almost...fun, in a way, but he would never admit that to Sam after all the bitching and moaning he’s done to him. After they would finish the slope, then you would get a break on the lift, which turned out to be Dean’s favorite part. They just got to be… in the air for a few minutes and watch the skiers go back beneath them.

After Dean started to get the hang of it, they tried something harder than Sleepy Hollow. He made Sam promise that’d he’d go slow for him, if they would do a black diamond. They were on the run Mirage, and a after a few minutes in, Dean wondered if it would ever end.

Dean slowed to a stop next to Sam, who had waited for him to catch up. The turns were much steeper here and were making his legs burn like hell.

“The things I do for work, man.”

“Oh, come on, Dean, I seriously don't get how you hate this.” Sam gestured all around them. “I mean, I love this kind of stuff.”

“Really? The cold and everything?”

“Yeah.”

“How? Why?”

Sam thought for a little bit. “Well, for one thing...the silence.”

He was right. The usual sounds of cars and other people just weren't there. Dean never noticed it till then. Out on runs like this one, they are away from everything. As if the only sound in the world was the snowflakes falling to the ground. It really was beautiful. The snow looked so untouched and smooth, it looked like everything was frosted and good enough to eat. 

Sam had taken in the scene and wasn’t noticing him. Dean reached down packed a handful of the untouched snow and threw it at Sam, quick as a whip. It caught him square in the chest, snapping him out of his revere. Sam had threw his hands up in surprise from the hit, yanking his poles out of the ground and sliding back a few inches in his skis. 

“Jesus, Dean!” he laughed. “What are you, six?”

“What can I say?” Dean said, leaning against his own poles. “You know me, I'm a child at heart.” He tried to reach down, slower this time, keeping his balance with his poles, trying not to lose them. He tried to lob another snowball at Sam. Sam had the decency this time to duck and counterattack with his own ball of snow. He missed.

“Come on, man, we're on a case!” Sam reprimanded, despite the fact he was smiling. 

“ _ Tch. _ It doesn’t hurt to have fun every once in awhile, Sammy.” 

Dean’s joy was quickly fading when he realized they soon wouldn’t be alone anymore. He heard the closing distance of voices that were getting louder and louder with each second. Sam noticed them too. He turned his head towards the noise.

“Jeez,” he said. “Someone’s having fun.” Sam was right. The whooping and hollering was unmistakable, and starting to get annoying. Suddenly they could see a figure whip around the island of trees, spraying snow from their turn, then tuck their poles into their sides and leaning forward so they shot like a bullet down the slope. Another person was not far behind them , doing the same, but turning more to counter the steepness. The first was miraculously not falling on their face.

“I’m wiiiiiiiiinning!” She cried as she sped past Sam and Dean. Dean had barely caught her words on the wind.

“Clara, you're going to hurt yourself!” The man angrily called down to her, but Dean thought she was too ahead of him to hear. He was still going at a breakneck speed and Dean hoped they wouldn’t kill themselves.

“Dean.” Sam suddenly said.

“What?”

“The accents!” His brother said excitedly.

“What?”

“The  _ hunters! _ ”

Realization crept onto Dean. Sam angled his skis downward.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean said. “We’re not actually going after them, are we?”

“We have to. We’ll lose them.” Sam started sliding away from him. “See you at the bottom.”

“Oh, come on, man! Don’t do this!” But Sam ignored him. Dean had no choice. He followed his brothers’ lead. But Sam was faster. He soon got ahead.

Dean was getting more and more nervous. He was too afraid to turn and ended up making the widest ones possible, which didn't help his speed. Soon, Sam and the strangers were out of sight.

Dean cursed, knowing that he would have to go faster. He tried making his turns shorter, adding a little hope that he’d see other people do, but he could only do a few when his legs were screaming past their limit. Panic-stricken, Dean found himself going straight- and faster than ever. He knew he wouldn’t last long like this and he was right. A freak bump in the snow, and Dean went sprawling. Head over skis, Dean found himself tumbling without stop for what seemed like ages. Finally, his spill ceased to a stop, his head was feeling the pull downward and one of his legs twisted in at odd way. He lay there a moment, dazed, staring at the grey sky as the tiny flakes fell downward. He felt the pain, but was more worried about how he could get up again. Luckily, one of his poles was attached to his wrist, but the other one was just out of reach above him. Or was that below him?

After a few minutes, Dean figured out how to get both of his skis facing in the right direction. He managed to switch his feet with his head so that gravity could work with him. He still didn’t have the courage to stand up again. He knew he would just start sliding. Facing the right, looking toward the course’s border of trees while half of his face was in the snow. Dean was rapidly thinking up a way to get out of this when he saw a flash of yellow through the trees. He froze, his eyes locking onto the figure.

_ Jenny? _

Suddenly, he saw her ski catch on the snow when she was turning, he saw her fall, just as he did, but instead, inside the copse of trees. He saw her spin, tumble, then finally crash into a truck. She had been at least a few feet off the ground and caught head first. Dean let out a small cry at the sound she made, horrified. He scrambled up from the snow as fast as he could. It was Jenny’s echo, he knew it. He saw her form flicker. If he could just get to her and shock her out of it. He abandoned his second pole and pushed as hard as he could against the sloping ground, making his way towards Jenny. Had she been alive at this time of the crash? Could he even talk to her? 

Dean carefully made his way around the trees, stopping only a few yards away when he saw the blood. She was just south of the tree that caused her demise, body still, unmoving. But the blood wasn’t coming from her head, no… It was coming from her neck. Blood ran free from the gash and onto the snow, staining the ground red. Dean wasn't bothered by the gore, but he just kept looking at the wound. He knew what could make that.

He could recognize a vampire bite anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Future**

Sherlock wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the sound of flapping wings announced the arrival of another presence in 221B.

Sherlock opened his eyes again to find that there was a man in a trench coat standing in the middle of the room, only illuminated by the street lamps outside. 

“Well,” Sherlock said through his crossed fingers, elbows digging into his own thighs now. “I thought that would've been at least a touch more dramatic.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. “I don't see the advantages of theatrics. Especially since you know who I am, Mr. Holmes.” He said with an unmistakable American accent. “You really should ward this place better, “ He continued, looking around the flat. “Given what you've been through.” Cas’s gaze rested on Sherlock. Sherlock recognized the expression on his face: sympathy. So. He knew. 

Sherlock looked at the clothes of the man. A tan trench coat, clean, but not laundered. His shoes didn't have a speck of dirt on them, although they certainly didn't look new, there was no signs of well-worn travel. There was something hidden up his sleeve. A weapon. The way he held himself was a pose he could see similarly in John: this man was a soldier.  _ Had  _ been a soldier. Sherlock had to remind himself that this man wasn’t a man at all. Not human, just wearing one like a costume. It seems he still couldn’t get used to that.

He could hear Clara waking up, get breaths coming shorter and shallower up from her sleep, stemmed from their conversation.

“Did Dean tell you...?” Sherlock asked, letting the question hang. He kept his voice even. 

Cas paused. “Yes.” He said, after a moment. “Everything.” 

Everything. He wasn't lying. He told this angel, but he couldn't tell his own brother about their little affair? Predictable. 

Clara was opening her eyes now, looking confused, as if she thought she was still in a dream. 

“...Who…? Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”

“An angel? What…?”

“Castiel is going to help us, Clara. Or rather, he's going to help you.” Sherlock paused and picked up the screwdriver from the coffee table. He stared at it, twisting it in his fingers before saying: “Tell me, how can you possibly find a man that is impossibly hard to find?” Sherlock swept his eyes up toward Cas. Cas knew who exactly he was talking about

“He’s not a man, though, is he?” Castiel asked.

“You know him?”

“I know  _ of  _ him. The Doctor causes a huge part of the clean-up crews’ problems.”

“The... ‘clean-up crew’?”

“The angels in the Department of Foreign Affairs have a sub-department for mass amnesic situations. Your Doctor causes quite the fuss upstairs.” Cas explained to them, looking at Clara.

“Hold on. That was  _ you?  _ That was the  _ angels?  _ You make everyone forget?” Clara was almost fully awake now. She seemed to accept Castiel’s arrival rather quickly.

“Yes.”

“Mass amnesic situations?” Sherlock.

“They perform a spell that makes the whole world forget a catastrophic event. Without that, humankind would have descended into chaos a long time ago.”

“What sort of catastrophic event.”

“The trees!” Clara practically shouted. “The trees that were everywhere! That protected the Earth from the solar flares?”

Sherlock, indeed, had no idea what she was talking about.

“And the Daleks! The Doctor told me about that, the Daleks moved the entire planet!”

“Yes. More than you know. That means it’s working.”

“Do you have a way to find the Doctor or not?” Sherlock interjected.

Castiel nodded and seemed to stare the man down. “Of course. But I’ll need a few ingredients first. Including human blood.”

“Not a problem,” Clara said. 

\---

Sherlock had to lift the rug on order to expose Mrs. Hudson's spotless hardwood floor. Well, spotless except for the pentagram painted in yellow.

Castiel sighed and crouched down. “Do you have any other flat surfaces?”

Clara and Sherlock both got on the floor with him. “Unless you want to clean up my experiment on the boiling point of lauric acid, I think this is the best option.”

“You'll need to annul the trap. It might interfere with the spell.”

Castiel magically produced a wicked looking knife which fell from inside his sleeve. He handed it to Clara, who held it gingerly.

“What am I supposed with this?” she whispered to Sherlock. 

“Even though Devil’s Traps’ can capture nearly every demon in the world,” Sherlock said, taking the knife from Clara. “It is still, in the end,-” he made a few scratches on the paint. “Just a drawing.” Sherlock threw the dagger on the floor. It clattered noisily for a second.

“Well, that’s gonna help me sleep better at night,” Clara said.

“That’s a Heavenly weapon,” Castiel frowned as he knelt, bringing all the supplies to the floor. “You should not be treating it like toy.” He gave a quick glare towards Sherlock and started drawing a circle in the center of the star with white chalk.

Clara widened her eyes while looking at Sherlock in amusement. “Come off it,  _ Cas _ , I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. This all seems quite ridiculous to me, still, I mean- I can’t believe I’ve been looking for the Doctor all this time with some chalk and- hold on, is that  _ cinnamon?” _

Clara tried to pick it up, but Castiel took it out of her hands before she could do anything with it.

“Cinnamon is one of the components of holy oil.” 

“Really? And here I thought it was used for pastries.”

Sherlock bent his head closer to the bowl with the alarmingly red disclosed herbs and spices. “And is that... _ paprika?” _

Castiel stopped drawing. “Look, do you want my help or not?” When neither of them decided to press on, Castiel continued, unscrewing a little bottle of what looked like oil and pouring it into the spices. Castiel had pricked Clara's finger earlier. Her blood laid on the bottom of the bowl.

“I had to modify the spell in order to find your Doctor seeing that he’s… well, an alien. I’ll need something of his to strengthen the search.” He held out his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock handed over the sonic screwdriver. He held it palm up then closed his eyes and recited words that sounded flat and ancient. 

_ “...Zod ah ma ra la ee est la gi ro sa.” _

Suddenly a bright red flame shot up from the bowl. Sherlock and Clara are thrown back from surprise. Castiel clutched his head, from what it looked from a like a headache. 

“What? What is it? Did you find him?” Clara asked Cas. 

“He's in Ireland,” he replied, somewhat shakily. 

Clara started to pull out her phone. “I'll check for flights.”

“No need,” Cas said. Before he could protest, Sherlock felt two fingers touch his forehead. Then, he discovered, he couldn’t breathe. After an awful second of feeling his eyes push deeper and deeper in his head, he felt the cool air again and gasped for breath. And then immediately vomited.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw Clara fall in dizziness and barely catch herself before she hit the grass.

_ Grass? _

They had teleported. Of all the things he had seen over the past few years, it still surprised him. Cas just stood there watching them get over their nasua. Sherlock spit to get rid of the taste of bile, hands on his knees. God, he didn’t even have time to get his coat.

The fog that was everywhere around them gave off a chill that set in his bones. He could see a gravel road a few meters aways from them in the darkness.

“ _ Cas _ ,” Sherlock hissed at the angel. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you wanted to find your Doctor.”

“I was just trying to help  _ her _ .” Sherlock gestured at Clara, who was getting up then.

“What was that? “ she gasped. 

“I flew you to Ireland.” Cas stated.

“That was flying?”

“...Yes.”

And then Sherlock saw it. A bright blue box out in the middle of the gale.

Clara shakily tried to walk toward it. “Oh my God. That's him.” She started to jog. 

Cas followed her.

“Wait. Clara! Cas, you’ve got to bring me back! Cas!” Sherlock tried to vie for the angel’s attention. He had no choice but to follow.

Sherlock saw her try the handle. It wouldn't open. 

“Doctor! “ Clara pounded on the box loudly, three times, like she had done to Sherlock's door. When nothing happened, and Sherlock and Cas finally caught up, the TARDIS door remained stoic and unopened

The beacon on shined softly through the darkness, illuminating the chilly night air and piercing through the fog. Sherlock remembered the first time he saw the TARDIS. His first thought was confusion. His second was humorous. 

Clara fumbled in her pockets, trying to search for her key. 

But Clara didn't need her key. The door suddenly swung open with a creak. A man that wasn't the Doctor that popped out from the phone box, it was a man that Sherlock had never seen before. He was wearing a brown suit and had hair that stuck up like it was defying gravity. 

Sherlock watched Clara from the corner of his eye as her face turned from confusion to recognition. 

“...Yes? “ The man asked. 

“You’re… you're him, aren't you?”

“Probably…” he said slowly. 

Clara sighed in relief. “Oh, Doctor, thank God!” She threw her arms around him. The Doctor caught her in her arms, just as he shut the door to the TARDIS. As he did, Sherlock caught a glimpse of an entirely different TARDIS interior than he was used to. How did that work? There was so many things he didn’t understand that he was used to by now.

Clara quickly let go and stepped back. “I’m not supposed to be here. You haven’t met me yet. You’re not the one I’m looking for.”

“Oh, come now, don’t be-” He seemed to just notice the two men standing on either side of you. “Don’t remember you, now, do I?”

“Mr. Doctor, it’ s pleasure to meet you,” Cas said hurriedly, stepping forward, holding out his hand.

“Oh.” The Doctor shook his hand. “Likewise.”

“I’ve got to say with all the great work you’ve done, you’ve still create quite a lot of uh… headaches in Heaven.”

“Eh… Heaven? I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of it. Wait is that Generios system?”

“It’s not a planet, Doctor.” Sherlock said.

The Doctor turned to Sherlock, standing with nothing but his dressing gown.

“And you are…?”

Sherlock tilted his head. “Leaving.”

“What are you doing here, Doctor?” Clara asked him. Sherlock locked his jaw angrily. She was looking behind her. In the distance, through the fog, there was a tiny, dark shape. After a few seconds, Sherlock realised it was a church. 

“Ireland?” she said. “I don’t think we’ve ever been to Ireland.”

“Shh.” The Doctor put a finger to his lips. All four of them were silent. “Can you feel that?” Confused, Sherlock scanned his body for any movement. 

“Feel wh-” Clara started to say before they all sensed a tremor beneath their feet. Soft, but still there. Cas was frowning.

The Doctor pointed at the ground. It happened again. “See? That is what I’m here for.”

“It’s an earthquake, then.”

“I don’t think so, Clara, do you?”

“Well, certainly not if you’re here.”

“And the source-” The Doctor nodded to the church. “Is right there.”

They all turned to the dark speck in the distance, supposedly a place a solace, but what was it doing in the middle of nowhere? All Sherlock could see was fog and too green hills. The chill was starting to seep into his bones. “There’s a priest,” The Doctor explained. “I don’t know if he feels them too, but I think he knows something is wrong. This is the only building for miles. I’ve been trying to gain his trust to search the rest of the church. I’ve been traveling his timeline for hours.”

“How long has it been for him?” Sherlock inquired.

The Doctor thought for a moment. “A year and a half.”

Sherlock recalled something Dean said before:

_ Are they just nothing to you?  _

It seemed like he was always this way, then. Playing with a person’s life, even if it was just small didn’t sit right with him.

The Doctor continued: “I have a theory on what's making the ground shake, but I need to see what's actually happening. There's something under that church,” The doctor pointed. “And I think the pastor there knows about it.” 

“The pastor? There's only one?”

He said this while starting to walk towards the church. He could already see him be enveloped in the thrill of the chase despite the sudden appearance of some strangers. He was used to this sort of thing, used to carrying hitchhikers- if they were useful. He could practically trust his future self with the choice of Clara, he knew that he wouldn’t pick someone if they weren’t clever. But Clara wasn’t as comfortable with Cas as she was with Sherlock. They had just met him, but Sherlock wished Clara wouldn’t make it so apparent. It would be useful to have an angel on your side. The only problem was, the Doctor didn’t believe him. He could also see the Doctor stride with ease towards the church. He wasn’t lying, he had been this way multiple times. It was routine now. Walk back in forth between the church and the the TARDIS, far enough away to not attract attention to the priest. You would gain anybody’s trust if you come enough times to a lonely individual way out here in the countryside.

The mist was getting to Sherlock, tickling his nose, smelling like a cool sauna. Clara was following the Doctor like a lost puppy, easing into the companion role like an old glove. 

“Remarkable, isn’t he?” Cas said beside him.

Sherlock considered asking for a ride back to London, but the awful sensation of flying made him refrain. Plus, the tremor made him do a double take. He kind of wanted to see what happened between an alien, an angel, and two--well, one and a half humans. 

“He’s been protecting this planet for so long, I’m surprised God isn’t jealous.”

“Huh,” Sherlock said, watching the Doctor saunter off. “I find it difficult to believe he’s actually younger than when I met him.”

“Time travel is a tricky business,” Cas said, starting to walk across the moor. “He’s fascinating. I’d never thought I would meet him in person.”

“Is he really that famous?”

Cas nodded. “Of course. He would get all the bets stacked with him in Heaven.”

“You… gamble in heaven.”

“Before the apocalypse becoming front page news, he was the highlight of our day. He gave us the most faith not to interfere. That the humans were doing fine on their own.”

Despite himself Sherlock made a humorous noise in the back of his throat. 

The church was the pinnacle of isolation. 

“Why is this thing here?”

“I have no idea, there’s not one for miles.”

“Not a crying demand for religion in these parts, then.”

The church wasn’t right. Sherlock could see that, but nothing about the actual aesthetic was off. Some might even say it was beautiful. As beautiful as a solitary church in Ireland could be. Just outside the walls were soaring, the brownstone arching into a perfect square. A perfect cube, actually. Sherlock couldn’t see the sides, but the whole building was a cube. It certainly was a church, though. Small, square glass windows could be seen from the outside, the beginning of a pattern that could only be finished inside. It didn’t look like much from out there. 

The Doctor stopped just outside the church’s doors. 

“Now, I don't know how he’ll act with surprise visitors,” he said.

“Don’t people come here?” Clara asked.

The Doctor made a face and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Why not? I mean… it looks pretty new, you’d think someone would have built it for a reason.”

“Unless, it wasn’t built.” The Doctor glanced at her while throwing the doors open with a flourish. 

“What do you mean…” Clara started to say, but was hushed from the sudden quietness from inside. 

Past the small foyer was an expansive room that seemingly stretched for miles. Beyond the rows and rows of pews was the pulpit on a stage a foot off the ground. Normally, churches had colossal windows, expanding entire walls with depictions of stories, symbols, and images. The minuscule, rectangular windows that pocketed the outside made popcorn patterns of light and shadow around the room, falling on carpet and chairs, deceiving the eyes. There was only one bug window, in the back. It was still floor to ceiling, but tiny compared to the still stone walls that took up the room. 

The Doctor was the first one to step through the double doors, into the dust. The dust was poignant, Sherlock could smell it was everywhere. He still couldn’t understand why the church was here, in the middle of nowhere. Especially if something this big didn’t have any customers. 

“Hello?” The Doctor called out. His voiced boomed in the space. It seemed unnatural that they were there, like they were disturbing something. “Father? Father Freeman? I’m back!”

The rest of the party soon followed, unsure. Cas let the door close softly behind them. They were left alone with the splintering lights in the place. 

The Doctor reached into his jacket, producing a small torch. He clicked it on, making it face the pulpit in the middle. 

Sherlock glanced at his companions, Clara didn’t seem scared. She was looking around, trying to look amazed at the high ceiling. Cas didn’t seem bothered by the apparent creepiness either. He was treading carefully with every step he took. He waited for the Doctor to make his next move. 

“Brought a few friends. Hope you don’t mind.”

The Doctor shined his light all around the church, moving along the center aisle. Slowly at first, then more direction as he went deeper. Sherlock, Cas, and Clara followed him. 

“Don’t worry,” he continued calling. “They’re harmless. They won’t bite. I don’t think…”

He stopped right before the stage, facing the rest of the church. “Where are you?” he said, quieter. He was still looking. 

Then a sound, almost like a door closing came from the right of them. Heads turned. 

Sherlock shared a nervous look with Cas. 

The Doctor ventured towards the noise. “Hello? Father?”

He didn’t have to go very far. Soft footsteps followed by a frail visage stepped into the dying light of the church. 

“Hello?” he raised his hand up to the sudden flashlights. “Who might you be?”

“Father… it’s me. It’s the Doctor.” The Doctor put a hand against his own chest. “I’ve been coming here for quite sometime.”

The old man didn’t look like he recognized him. 

“Are you sure you don’t remember me? We’re friends.”

The man paused. “Oh…if you say so.”

“Is everything alright?” The Doctor crept closer.

“I’m so sorry about the state of this place. I didn’t even think to set it up for service. No one comes here anyway.” Freeman looks up at the expanding ceiling. “Still, I didn’t do my duty… Is it really Saturday already?”

The man looked weak. The Doctor took him by the hand. “Why don’t you sit down.”

He led him to the closest pew next to them. 

“Thank you my dear boy.” Freeman sat down in a hunched way. “You know I haven’t felt quite myself lately.” He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, slowly. He looked defeated, depressed. “…Can’t really put things together. 

Something caught Sherlock’s eye on Freeman. Something on the base of the back of his neck. “Doctor.”

He shined his light on it, fully. It was a scab. It was a black scab. It was another thing that didn’t seem right. 

The Doctor leaned back. One look and Sherlock could tell, by that little frown that he didn’t recognize what it was. 

The Doctor reached inside his jacket and took out two items. One- a pair of glasses, and two- his sonic screwdriver. It wasn’t the same one that Sherlock had. 

“Er…” he said, waving his magic wand over the wound. “Father… how did you get this?”

“Oh. Oh!” The priest reached back and touched a spot near the scab. “That’s what’s been hurting…”

“Do you know how you got it?”

“No… I’m afraid not. I think that’s what’s the problem. Can’t remember heads or tails these days.” He shrugged. “Side effect of old age, I guess.”

The Doctor leaned forward. “Are you sure you don’t remember me?”

The priest shook his head. “I’m sorry, my boy…”

“Hm.” The Doctor stood up and put his screwdriver back in his jacket. “What  _ is _ the last thing you remember?”

“Oh. Well. Let’s see. I do remember getting up this morning to go make breakfast. Mm, there was a draft on the way to the kitchen, I must see what’s doing that…”

In the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw a flash of movement. He shined his light on where he thought it was, but nothing was there. Sherlock shivered. His mind was playing tricks on him.

“Have any of you seen something like this?” The Doctor said to the group, looking at each of them in turn. His eyes fell on Sherlock. Sherlock cocked his head as a negative. This was something entirely new. The man looked like he could barely remember to walk. 

“Okay.” The Doctor jumped up from the pew, running a hand through his hair. It was obvious that he hadn’t seen something like this before either. “Okay. We’re going to go back. We’re going to go back to the last thing you remember.”

“Oh. Okay. What was that again?”

“You were walking?”

“No. The last thing I remember… I think it was changing the batteries on… Hold on… or…”

“He’s losing more,” Cas noted. 

“No, that’s…” the priest said.

“Do you think it could be progressing?” Clara asked. 

“I don’t know.” The Doctor paused. “Come on. Let’s put you to bed.” He took the old man’s arm and helped him up. “Meanwhile,” the Doctor handed him off to Clara and Cas. “We’re going to retrace your steps.” The Doctor looked around the church.

“Can you fix him?” Sherlock heard Clara asked Cas.

“Memories are… more difficult to parse back together than you think. Normally, a memory is still stored, even if you forget it, but this man… His memories are gone…”

As Sherlock watched them take the priest to his room as the Doctor disappeared to the back of the church. The Doctor seemed to know his way pretty well. He went straight to the hall where the priest was talking about, the one to the kitchen. The scenery seemed to change there. No longer was the building made a hundred years ago, but it cut off suddenly, changing into white walls and blue carpet. The kitchen was sparse, white counters, stove, and matching cabinets to the left and a tiny table with two chairs on the right, a smoke alarm and it’s innards spread out on its surface. But more importantly was the gaping hole in the ground in the back of the room. Cold air was seeping from the thing. It seemed to call to the Doctor as he made his way forward, but then something caught his eye on the wall to his left. A small, black beetle, perfectly round was exploring the smooth white expanse with tiny feelers. 

“Hel-lo,” the Doctor said, looking at the beetle with curiosity. “Aren’t you a beauty?”

The beetle quickly scurried away from the light the Doctor shown on it. After a few seconds of watching, the Doctor turned his attention to the gap, staring down at it, no bottom in sight. 

\---

“Don’t tell me we’re going in there.”

“Come now...ah, Sherlock you said your name was? Where’s your sense of adventure?” the Doctor said.

All four of them stood around the hole in the floor, a sense of trepidation surrounded them.

“This is not adventure, this is madness.”

“Yeah… kind of the same thing, though, isn’t it?” The Doctor squatted down, peering his light to see if he could find the bottom.

“I agree with Sherlock; we don’t know what’s down there,” Cas said, surprising Sherlock.

“Only one way to find out.” The Doctor swung his legs over the dirt precipice, placing his hands on the floor tile on either side of him. “Well,” he said, looking up at them. “Alllons-y!”

**The Present**

Dean managed to make it down Mirage without another incident, but he was still pretty disturbed about what he saw and what it meant. He needed to find Sam.

He found him by the lift, still looking around for those hunters that past them.

“Sam!” Dean called out. Sam turned to the sound of Dean’s voice. He scooted closer to the mountain so that he could meet him.

“What took you so long?” Sam asked as soon as he was in earshot.

“I saw her.”

“What? Saw who?”

“The girl. Jenny. I saw her die.”

“What? So it was a death echo then?”

“Yeah, but Sam, it wasn’t from a fall, she was killed by a vampire!” Dean’s voice had rose in excitement, but he remembered to keep it down when other skiers were passing by.

But Sam looked confused. “A vampire? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, I saw the wound, it was definitely a bite.”

“What was it doing here?”

“I don’t know, Sam, but do you know what this means?” Dean said, hitting his brother in the chest with a smile. “The reason no one’s found her is because someone killed her. They must of hid the body.”

“Everyone was just looking under the snow.” Sam looked at the ground, thinking. “Where could she be, then?” He looked back at the lodge. “Do you think-?”

“I don’t know. I think it would be easier to look at someplace with heat than a mountain with a gazillion trails, huh? Did you find those hunters?” 

“No. Too fast for me. They probably weren’t hunters anyway. I probably jumped the gun.”

“If they are hunters, I’m sure they’ll show up.”

Sam gave a laugh. “Heh, yeah. Sure.”

Dean checked his watch. It was nearing four. Closing time. “Maybe we should just get back to the hotel. Think stuff over. Find a spell to track her body.”

“Yeah, if there even is a spell.”

“I’m sure you’ll find one, bro.”

“Don’t call me bro.”

On the car ride towards the hotel, Sam tried looking for witches in their dad’s journal. Not many of them were still alive.

“You know, we could always ask Rowena.”

“Not a chance. This isn’t nearly big enough. The only case where I  _ do _ want her help is when aliens start comin’ to Earth.”

Sam decided to keep looking. 

The hotel wasn’t far, only four miles from the the resort itself. They had passed by it on the 50 on the way to the mountain. It was a little on the more expensive side than what they were used to, but they could manage. Meanwhile, Sam was big on finding the spell. He didn’t realize they had stopped until Dean said: “Hey. Smarticus. We’re here.”

Sam looked up, surprised. “What? Oh.”

Sam got his bag, while Dean stuffed his with weapons. Just in case. As they were waiting to check in, Dean could tell Sam was itching to start looking for that spell. Dean just wanted to sleep. Finally, they arrived at their room and Sam got out his laptop right away. Dean immediately flopped on the bed. He was exhausted and didn’t know how Sam could still look for anything at that moment. Then again, he was probably just caught up in the thrill of the hunt. Feeling guilty, Dean got out their iPad and started searching too.

“Hey, do you think I should call James?”

“Who?”

“James? Frampton? He’s still alive right?” Sam rolled his eyes. “With the familiar?”

Dean found himself smiling. “Oh yeah…”

Sam called him. He said he didn't have anything. But he would keep looking. Sam thanked him and hung up. After that, Dean started thinking. 

“Would a scrying spell work?”

Sam thought for a moment. “I don’t know. They usually only work for a person.”   
“Would it work for Jenny?” Who was a corpse.

Sam just shrugged. “We need a witch to find out.”

“Unless we tried it ourselves.”

Sam looked up from his laptop, an eyebrow raised. “Uh, I don’t think so, Dean.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going to risk my life with magic just for a corpse. It’s not worth it, no one’s in danger.”

“Except that girl’s tortured soul.”

“No one alive.”

“And that means we're just supposed to turn our backs?”

“No, Dean-” Sam sighed and closed his laptop. “We have more pressing matters than just one soul. The Darkness, for one. If we don’t find a way to stop her soon-”

“Then it’s Bye Bye Birdie.”

“Exactly. But it doesn’t mean we’re not going to try.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean could tell Sam was bothered. Then he had a new thought. “What about Cas?”

“What about him?”

“Couldn’t he find the body?”

“I think he’s still recovering from Rowena’s spell. And dodging all those bloodthirsty angels.”

“...Right.” Dean felt an unneeded pang.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Dean was lifting his head up to tell Sam about a new idea when suddenly, they both heard a knock on their hotel room door. They both looked at each other. Sam frowned. “Did you order room service?”

Dean shook his head slowly. Still frowning, Sam retrieved the shotgun from his duffel bag. Dean armed himself with the cursed knife.

Sam approached the door warily, Dean following close behind, prepping himself for a fight.

Sam peered into the peephole. Then gave Dean a curious look. He opened the door. Outside was a scrawny looking man with short, black hair that could have been mistaken for a teenager practically shaking in his Converse.

Sam was hiding the shotgun behind his body so that the man couldn’t see it. Dean did the same with his knife, but still kept it handy behind his back.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked.

The tiny man took a deep breath, as if preparing for something. Dean tensed and gripped the knife’s handle harder.

“I know who killed Jenny Foster.”

Sam looked back at Dean, surprised.

“Who are you?”

“Uh…” The man said, wringing his hands nervously. “I’m not sure you’d be so thrilled to find out.”

“Well,” Sam said, sticking his head out into the hotel hallway. “We can’t talk out here, so are you coming in or what?”

What?

“Sam!?” Dean said warningly. He wasn’t sure if they could trust this guy yet. But it seemed like Sam was too desperate for leads to care.

The guy darted into the hotel room and continue to wring his hands. He seemed even more nervous than before. After Sam closed the door, not bothering to hide the shotgun anymore, the man finally locked eyes with them one at a time.

“Look, I know who you guys are. The Winchester’s, right?”

“Yeah.” Sam said slowly. “How do you know? Are you a hunter?”

“No.” The man shook his head. “I, uh… My name’s Billy… I’m a vampire.”

The information came to Dean as a shock. He immediately got into fighting stance. Dean felt Sam tense up a little too. Dean was angry at him for not taking up full precautions. He didn’t believe they invited this guy in!

Billy tried to calm them down. “Look, look, I- I’m not here to kill you!”

That wasn't enough to convince Dean to trust him. Wrong answer.

“Try again!” Dean said out loud, definitely not backing off.

“If you just listen to me, I can explain everything.”

“Explain what, you’re a killer!” Dean practically shouted.

“Not all of us are,” Billy said, without a shred of nervousness. It was almost like he became another person. It was the one thing he said that hit Dean as cold, cool, and collected. Dean felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, I think we should hear him out.”

Dean looked at Sam, then back at Billy. Finally, he relaxed. A bit. Jesus, they were desperate for leads.

“Prove it.” Dean said.

“What?” Sam said.

“Prove that you're a vampire.”

“Why should he?” Sam asked, looking at Billy.

“Because I don’t want him to be anything worse.”

“Dean-”

“Okay, okay,” Billy interjected. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Billy sighed and shook out his arms. He seemed to be waiting for something. Suddenly, they all heard a crack. Billy’s hand immediately went to his jaw. More cracking sounds, and Billy covered his mouth while doubling over. Dean cringed at the noise. It certainly didn’t seem pleasant. As soon as it had started, Billy was silent. He removed his hand from his mouth revealing a full set of fangs.

“Sorry,” he said, covering his mouth again and ducking his head. “I’m not used to habbing tem at willa.” Billy said, his tongue danced out of the way out of the usual sharp teeth, altering his speech. He kept his mouth covered while his fangs retracted. He seemed embarrassed by them, not the usual menacing expression that usually came with the creatures that supported those fangs towards Sam and Dean. But this guy seemed harmless enough.

“Alright, Billy,” Dean nodded. “If you promise not to kill us, we’ll promise not to kill you.”

Billy looked up at them and smiled, fang-less. “Fair enough.”

Both parties agreed to talk on the beds, after Billy turned both the lamps off. He said he couldn’t sit too close to that bright of light. Sam set the shotgun down, but Dean wasn’t taking any chances.

“Okay, Billy.” Sam started. “How do you know who killed-”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get to that.” Dean interrupted. “First things first: how did you find us?”

“Well, I-... I followed you. While you were talking to customer service, I saw you, I recognized you.”

“Recognized us? From where?”

“...Maybe I should start at the beginning. I got turned in 2012. By someone who wanted to expand their nest, but… I didn't believe in hurting people like that. So I left. I tried to find a nest that only ate animal blood, but I couldn’t… It was...lonely staying on my own. I couldn’t stay long in one place, I was always on the lookout for more hunters and I had to be careful for which livestock I chose. No friends, my family thought I was dead… I lived like that for years before I started thinking: ‘Maybe I can use my powers for good.’ So I started turning.”

“You what?” Sam said.

“Hold on, it’s not what you think!” Billy said defensively. “I only did it to people who were going to die. Sal was in intensive care for 7 years. He basically had this cancer for a third of his life. He was about to die, so I did the only thing I could… I turned him. I did the same to two others. Maddie and Kip. We didn’t hunt humans, only ate animals. Oh, and we picked up Katie along the way. She was a hunter, before she got turned.”

“She was?” Sam asked. “I don’t think I’ve heard of her.”

“She said it was an accident. On a hunt in Mexico. Outnumbered or something. That’s all she said. She didn’t want to share the rest of it. That’s how I heard of you guys. You guys are legends. Taking on entire species. Stopping the  _ apocalypse _ . Someone even said you killed the devil.”

“That last one’s not true,” Dean said with a smile.

“She also said you did ground jobs a lot. So two guys coming in and asking questions? I knew it was you. But...you also have a reputation of hostility. I didn’t know if I could approach you without killing you. So I followed you… Sorry about that.”

Sam gave him a forgiving smile. “So where’s your nest?” 

“That’s the problem. They all left. I wasn’t a leader to begin with, but once the pack got bigger, I-... I don’t know what happened. I guess it all started with King. I saved him from a gunshot wound. I found him in an alley in New York, lying there, the life bleeding out of him. I had followed his scent so the police hadn’t even arrived yet. I knew he wouldn't have made it. I had to do something. A few days later he was part of our pack. He got along well with the others. Maybe a bit too well. A few months later he was questioning why we had to eat animals. He said people wouldn’t notice if we picked a few of them off. I shut down that talk immediately, but I know the others started to listen. Now, understand, animal blood isn’t the best to live off of. It doesn’t taste very good. But I hoped my nest would keep in mind that they weren’t doing any harm by going my way. Obviously, I… misjudged them. Their minds were starting to change the more and more they listened to King. It all changed a few months ago. We were camping in Montana, on a trail where I knew had the best game. It was pretty remote. But one night King said he smelled some hikers a few miles away and wanted to take his chances. I tried to convince him not to, but then he just exploded. He was tired in living in fear, tired of not using his abilities, tired of not doing what he felt that he was meant to do. I tried to tell him what this would mean for us. I expected my nest to back me up, but… they didn’t. King had messed with their minds, they were too far gone to care about me. I tried to stop King, but he just fought me off. I’m surprised he didn’t kill me, but I think Katie convinced him not to. They weren't my family after all.They just wanted fresh blood. Maybe I never should have turned them...”

“I’m...sorry you lost your nest, Billy,” Dean said. “I… We know how that feels. To lose your family”

“Yeah, well… I have to run from King now, too, you know. He went after me a few times. I know a few contacts of mine got calls from him.” He looked up. “He’s after me. And I think… I think he’s the one that killed Jenny a year ago. King told me he loved this place as a kid. He must of thought that this was good hunting grounds; a skier lost to the snow.” Billy rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I know this means you’re gonna go after him. I don’t care. If you find them, then… Please, don’t kill my nest. It was King’s influence that drove them to this. I know that if I get them back, I can convince them to go my way. Please.”

Dean shared a glance with Sam.

“We’ll keep an eye out for them, but we can’t promise you anything if it turns out they’ve killed.” Sam said.

Dean could see the tears welling up in Billy’s eyes. He looked down at his hands.

“Just because we know who killed her, doesn’t mean we know where the body is.”

“I can help look with you.” Billy said, looking up. “We have a few tricks for hiding carcasses if we need to.”

“Thanks, Billy.” Sam nodded. “I think we’ll need you. Thank you for sharing this with us. You’ve been helpful.” 

“Uh, Sam? Can I talk to you for a second?” Dean said.

Outside the hotel room, Dean shared his thoughts. “Are you crazy? You’re inviting a vamp to come hunt with us?”

“Oh, come on, Dean, his pack killed Jenny! He could find her body faster than we ever could!”

“Are you sure we can trust him? For all we know, his little sob story might be fake.”

“I don’t know, man. It seemed pretty real for me.”

“Anyone can act, Sam.”

“You can’t.”

Ignoring him, Dean said: “Whatever you say, I’m not trusting a fucking vamp, no matter how many tears he squeezes out.”

“You don’t have to trust him, Dean. I’m just saying that someone who can smell ten times better than we can might be an advantage this time. Do you got a better idea?”

When Dean didn't have a comeback, Sam unlocked the hotel room door. 


	3. Chapter 3

**The Present**

_ How do we know that we can trust him? _

Dean kept looking in the rearview mirror at Billy- who was sitting there, seemingly harmless. But Dean knew more than anyone that looks can be deceiving. He didn’t get much sleep last night. He kept worrying that Billy had gone back to his real nest and alerted them of their position. Billy alone could have easily broken down the door to their hotel room.

But there were good vamps- and monsters- wasn’t there? Benny, oh, and that one vamp that ate livestock blood, too… What was her name again? What happened to her? Dean thinks he remembers seeing her in ‘11. Didn’t Cas kill her?

A disturbing thought, but Dean was more bothered that he couldn’t remember her name. They’ve definitely been doing this for far too long.

They got to the resort in no time, the snow falling as hard as ever. Dean wondered if he’d ever catch a break.

“Here’s the deal,” Billy said when Dean parked. “Me and Dean go search Mirkwood, Sam can search the lodge. If he doesn’t find anything, he can come join us.”

“Who are you to be making all the orders around here?” Dean snapped. “And...why does Sam get to go into the lodge? He’s the better skier!”

“I’m sure you won’t let me be alone with Sam.” 

Dean had to agree with that. He realized that the hotel door probably didn’t hide anything from Billy’s superhuman hearing yesterday.

The vampire sighed. “I’m going to have a hell of a sunburn after today.”

**\---**

Dean counted the seconds as they went by. He definitely didn’t imagine being stuck on a lift with a vampire today- one thing he’d thought he’d never do. But the sooner they found this body the sooner they could leave. Never mind that hunts had been a little stale lately. Everything on their roster had been deemed impossible (like finding a way to defeat the Darkness) or covered by other hunters. The Winchester name sure got around, almost like they were celebrities, but they still like to work alone. Dean wondered how Billy was feeling sitting next to a hunter. He was afraid of the name Winchester.

The uncomfortableness of the situation didn’t help that it felt like they were hundreds of feet above the ground. Dean knew he shouldn’t, but peered down below to judge the distance and see if he would die if he fell right then.

“You okay?” Billy said, looking at him.

Dean leaned back, nervously. “Yeah, yeah...It’s just a long drop.”

“Scared of heights? I was scared of heights too.”

“Was?”

“Before I was turned. Now I know I’m practically invincible. I used to be afraid of everything back then. But now I have to be afraid of new things now. Like not being caught. Where to get my next meal. Where to stay. Hunters... Keeping my nest in line.”

“...Sorry about all that. And sorry about your...nest. It sounded like you were really making a difference.”

“Five people doesn’t really make a difference. Hunters are still gonna come after you anyway. They just think you're another monster until they find you.”

“Do they ever try to kill you?”

“All the time. We never kill them, though. Against our- my- rules. Sure can be a pain, though. We’re not hurting anybody, but they track us down anyways. It’s unfair, really. I tried to join other groups when I was young. It was horrifying to see. They have to keep people alive, so they’re there for days… Some of them got past the extreme hunting in the 90’s and 80’s… they've been turned so long, I don’t think they remembered they were human.”

“They aren’t human.” Dean frowned. “ _ You’re _ not human.”

Billy winced. “I...know...I know I’m not human. But it just feels… it feels like I should be. I’m on the fence all the time about who I am, who I should be. It doesn’t feel good when both of your kinds hates you. Vamps look down on those who feed on animals. Hunters think you’re just like all the other monsters. And I get it, you can’t trust anyone in this world. But it’s hard to look at it kindly when you just can’t get a break. At least I had my nest. At least I had my family. But now I don’t even have that anymore.”

Sam and Dean were silent for a while, contemplating what he said.

“Hey. Billy. I’m sure you’ll find them.” Sam finally said

“Under the influence of King?” Billy said darkly. He shook his head. “I doubt I’ll ever find the friendly side of  _ them  _ again.”

Constantly running. Alone. Not an appealing life to Dean. He had to hand it to him, Billy led a pretty depressing life.

They both went silent again as the hum signaling the end of the lift grew louder.

**\---**

The gate to Mirkwood stood there like a monolith in the middle of nowhere.  _ Very  _ Space Odyssey, Dean thought. They were the last people on earth, the world taken over by the  _ Day After Tomorrow _ superstorm. 

_ What am I doing here? _

Dean and Billy went past the Mirkwood gate, Billy leaning unexpectedly towards the left where the resort boundary on the other side of the mountain. He ignored the  _ SKI AREA BOUNDARY Not patrolled beyond this point  _ signs and stopped by the edge with some trees, where he could see the whole expanse of the Colorado mountains. All Dean could see was white speckled by the green trees.

“Getting anything?” he asked Billy, knowing that one push could send him over on the steep drop below.

“No. I didn’t think snow could cloud my senses but there’s so much of it, I’m starting to think it could.” He sniffed. “Would she be stupid enough to go down there?”

“Maybe if she wanted to get away from someone.” Dean raised his eyebrows at Billy then looked at the expanse. “Fuck. It’s like a needle in a goddamn haystack.”

“Let’s go down one of the actual slopes.”

Good idea. But, of course for him, these courses in Mirkwood were nothing but black diamonds from there on out. Not bad for the second day of skiing he had to admit, but he still knew he would break his neck. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where are we going?” Dean asked Billy as they passed one of the runs, Southbound. 

“There’s a rise between two of the runs. I figured I would catch something there.”

It turns out, staying between two courses:  _ extremely  _ hard. Trees: everywhere. And not to mention very,  _ very _ steep. Dean couldn’t turn in the fear that he would bite the dust.

“You’re doing fine, Dean!” Billy called to him. Dean had wandered off track a bit. He was now a bit… lefter than he was supposed to be. And know was going down a hill that he couldn’t possibly crawl up on. Dean couldn’t help his nervousness when he saw the  _ double  _ black diamond sign, where they were going. Then and there he knew he would never see the lodge again.

Dean was on his butt, trying to work up the courage to stand upright again.

“Hang on, I’m coming down.”

“Uh. No, it’s fine. Honestly…”: but Billy was already maneuvering what seemed like the millions of trees to get down to where he was.

“...Sorry.”

“Don’t worry abou-” Suddenly his head snapped into the direction up the mountain. “No. It… It can’t be…”

“What? What is it?”

“Dead man’s blood!”

“What?” Dean repeated.

“Dead man’s blood, did you bring it?”

“Yeah, why?” Dean said nervously. Was he mad at him for bringing it?

“Because, Dean, it’s King! He found me. He found us.”

Impossible. Dean was on his feet in an instant. He couldn’t fight a vampire, not in the snow, not in  _ skis.  _ He cursed himself for not bringing his machete. He had been worried about falling on it and impaling himself. The tiny syringe full of blood was all the protection he had against Billy, and it would be even less effective against a very angry vampire.

“We have to move. Now!”

Billy pushed off.

“Wait! Billy, wait!” Dean called after him.

It became a mad dash for the vamp. Dean didn’t think he would catch up with him. Especially with all the trees in the way. Dean found him hugging the side of a pine almost in the clear to the run.

Then he saw Billy stop. Out of breath, Billy said, “I lost him.”

“What do you mean-?”

“I lost him, Dean. I lost his scent, the wind changed, or- or- or-  _ I don’t know. _ He’s probably right behind us, but I can’t leave  _ you-” _

“Hold on, man, just slow down.”

Billy was panicked. He got off his butt and started skiing downhill.

“Hey, Billy! Wait!” Billy didn’t seem to hear Dean. He weaved in and out of the trees. Boy were there a lot of trees. The steepness didn’t help either.

Dean caught up with Billy at the edge of the run. He was hugging a pine, still in a state of panic.

“Hey, Billy. Calm- calm down okay?”

“I lost him! He could be anywhere. How could he have found me? I was so careful, I thought he’d given up hope. He’s- he’s going to kill me. You should go, Dean, go!”

Suddenly, a new voice startled him. “You alright?” Dean turned to see a figure at the top of the slope calling down to them. Without an answer, she started to make her way towards them.

“Is she one of them?” Dean asked him.

“No.”

“What’s going on?” The woman asked them.

Accent Dean thought. Is she another hunter?

What was he doing? He should be flying down the mountainside as fast as he could. But the little trip he took the day before made him want to take on the vampires than ski on a double diamond.

“Get back to the lodge.” Billy told her.

“What? Why?”

“Get back to the lodge, NOW! Dean, I’m going to try to talk to him. Just go!”

“Talk to him? Talk to who?” The woman asked. A bit more eagerly than Dean expected.

“Look, you need to get out of here. Take her!”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not going anywhere unless you explain what’s going on.”

Dean was trapped in the need to stay and get this person out of danger. If King and his nest were coming for Billy, than he would stand no chance. Dean had to make a decision.

“Listen, lady, I think you should come with me.”

“Hold on a moment, we’ve only just met. Come on, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Look, we really don’t have time for that right no-”

“If you’d just let me help you-”

“Lady, I didn’t want to have to do this,” Dean dug around for his spare FBI badge. “But you’re impeding on a federal investigation and I’m going to have to ask you-”

“That’s a fake FBI badge.”

Dean stopped. “What… How-?”

“The gold writing, it’s engraved. It should be embossed. I means you made it with cheaper materials because it’s becoming chipped at the edges. Plus, it doesn’t say Department of Justice on the bottom. Really, what’s going on here?”

Before Dean could come up to say anything, he felt Billy tense up beside him.

“He’s here.”

Dean looked around, seeing nothing but trees around them. The woman was silent too, as if sensing a change.

Then, Dean’s eyes found movement, a black shape darting between trees. More objects flitted between them, until a man stepped out in full view, dark skinned and bald.

Dean drew his gun, painfully aware of his skis strapped to the heavy boots and the civilian beside him. 

“Hey, HEY, HEY! Don’t come any closer!”

The man laughed as more people came out of the trees. The woman slid back in surprise a little bit from the emergence of the gun. But she didn’t try to get away.

“Lady, you better get out of here,” he told her.

“No one moves,” the man said. Dean assumed this was King and the rest of the pack were vampires. Some of them had their fangs beared, looking at Billy with such intensity he was sure any one of them could attack at any moment. If any of what Billy said was true, King had them under his thumb pretty good. 

“Are those…?” The woman said.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Should’ve run when you had the chance.”

Even though they all had skis and the vampires didn’t, Dean didn’t want to press his luck with the vamps’ speed. He knew firsthand that they were fast as lightning, especially when they had their pray right in their grasp. They were walking meals out here in the freezing cold.

“Put that gun down, hunter. We both know it won’t do you any good.”

“Maybe not, but I know it would hurt like a bitch.”

"Hardly." King put his hands up, as if that made Dean feel any better. “We’re not looking for a fight. We just want Billy.”

“Not happening,” Dean said, not believing he was actually defending a monster. 

“Slow down. We just want to talk to him.”

“Then talk away, nothing's stopping you.”

“Alright. Fine.” King’s eyes narrowed on Billy. 

“No one’s fooling anyone, King,” Billy said. Maybe more bravely than he thought. “I know you’re here to kill me.”

King spread his hands. “You could've kept running, Billy. Why stop here? Why lead us right to you?”

Did he really lead them here?

“Billy? Tell me that’s not true, man.”

“No, I didn’t leave them here. I just… stopped running.”

“Why?” A blonde haired woman asked.

The woman was staring, wide eyed at the events taking place before her behind Dean.

Billy slid forward. “You were my family, Maddie. Through thick and thin, you guys were there for me.”

“What kind of family would let each other starve? We were dying out there, Billy!”

“You really think that? We were doing what it takes to survive. How many hunters have come after you since you started killing people?”

“We’ve been careful,” King said, looking at Billy with daggers in his eyes.

“It’s no excuse to follow you. You could’ve stopped any time you wanted to. But instead you chose not to stand up for yourself and take the easier path. The path of least resistance.”

“The path of least resistance is the path of survival. Do you know how many vampires are left, Billy? We are dwindling!”

“That’s not true. That’s not true! Don’t you see what he’s doing?” He looked at each and everyone of his pack except King. “He’s creating fear to make you follow him. He’s using fear to keep you in line.” Billy thought for a moment. He looked like he was going to regret his next words. “And even if vampires are dying out, good riddance.”

King looked at him darkly.

“All we do, all we’re built for, is to hurt humans. When’s the last time you saw any of your families in the real world?” he asked them making strong eye contact with each. “You can’t because you’re afraid of hurting and killing them. You can’t create more vamps, King, you just can’t. It’s a disease that needs to eventually be eradicated.”

“You made us, Billy. You made  _ me.  _ We’re not human anymore,” King practically yelled. “What has humankind ever done for us? They make us something to be feared. We are sick of being hunted. We were hunted even when we weren’t hurting anybody. Tell me, where was the justice in that? We became what they wanted us to be! What you call killing, is surviving to me. And you bet your ass I have the right to survive.”

“You don’t have the right to kill,” Billy said.

“Vampires could be the next evolutionary step!” King cried. “You ranted about this all the time, you couldn’t shut up about it. You basically fantasied about a world that had the gene pool of humans and vampires. ‘Think of the possibilities!’ you said. ‘Entire epidemics could be eradicated or even prevented! A string of a better, faster, stronger race.’”

Billy let his eyes close. “They were just theories.”

“Theories?” King spat. “I’m going to make your theories a reality, Billy. Imagine a world where we wouldn’t be hunted anymore, like animals,  _ for sport. _ I’m tired of running, we all are! Everyone of us just wants a place to call home. If you’re not with us, then you’re against us.”

King started to advance. Dean raised his gun higher, although it wouldn’t do them any good. He was just prepared to shoot when King stopped. Dean was confused then he heard it: the faint sound of swishing. Someone was coming down the mountain. 

Dean thought  _ Oh, shit.  _ Another civilian. Should Dean put his gun down? Would King and his nest attack in front of them?

Dean didn’t have time to think because the skier was upon them.

“ _ Oh _ ,” he heard them say.

Dean spared a quick glance up to where the skier stopped above them. It was a man, he wasn’t wearing a hat. He had on a black snow outfit with huge orange skiing goggles. The man lifted the goggles up, revealing piercing blue eyes and a frown at Dean’s gun.

_ If looks could kill… _

“Hello,” the man said. He pointed at the woman. “Been looking for you, Clara.”

The other accent. This one was Scottish.

“Who are you?” King asked.

“Could ask you the same thing. Am I interrupting something? I feel like I’m interrupting something.” He gestured at Dean and the vampires.

“You could say that,” Dean said, staring down King. 

“Well,” The man skied down a few turns more and came to a stop by the two groups. “Sorry about that. You mind filling me in?” he asked the woman, Clara.

“Doctor,” she shook her head. “I really don’t know. I think they’re…  _ vampires,”  _ she whispered.

“Vampires? Interesting, very interesting. You know, I thought I met a vampire in 1972, but it turned out only to be a-”

“ _ Doctor!”  _ Clara hissed. “Now’s not the time. They seem like the real deal.”

“Do they now?” the man said. “Pointy teeth, insatiable bloodlust? Allergy to garlic? Put that down, you’re going to hurt someone,” he told Dean, laying a hand on the gun and pointing it downward. 

Dean was stunned at the man, the one Clara called Doctor. Who was this guy?

“Now,” the Doctor surveyed the scene in front of him, trying to parse the situation out. “ _ You-”  _ he pointed at King. “Seem to be staring a lot at  _ him.”  _ He nodded his head at Billy, who seemed to be very confused at the situation just as much as Dean was. 

“I’m guessing you have a problem with him, is that what it is? Well, I’m sure we can all work something out, can we? No harm done, no blood shed, and certainly no pointy teeth needed. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy, old man,” King said. 

“Ha ha. Yes, insulting my sanity. Always a good way to introduce yourself.”

“Doctor, I think you should stand back,” Dean said.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“All of you, you should get out of here,” Billy said. “It’s me they want, not any of you.”

“I agree,” King said. “This concerns none of you.”

“Now hold on just a minute,” the Doctor said. He paused as if putting together something in his head. “It’s sunny out, why aren’t you sparkling?”

King hissed, fangs out. 

Billy, Dean, Clara, and the Doctor jumped back.

“Okay, okay. Clearly the wrong thing to say. Sorry about that. Sorry, sorry. But you know what? Those pointy teeth are really cool.”

“Look, man, you’re not helping,” Dean said, his gun back up. “Get back.”

“Can we please do this without guns?”

“Not if you keep saying stupid shit.”

“I’ll ignore that for now, but,” the Doctor turned towards King. “What’s your problem with him?” He pointed at Billy.

“Because,” King said. “Billy’s lead us down the wrong path time and time again.”

“Really?” the Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Because you chose to come here, chase him half across the country, yeah? You could’ve never seen him again, but you didn’t. You actively sought him out, which makes me think… You’re worried about him. He was the original leader of your group, right? So. Knowing what we know… You’re afraid of what he adds to your little…” the Doctor waved his hand around. “Group. Probably adds a lot more than you do.”

King’s fangs were still barred, he looked pissed, ready to strike. Dean knew he had to do something fast.

But Billy beat him to it.

“You want to tear me apart, huh? Billy said, sliding forward so he was in Kings’ line of sight, no Dean put between them. “Go right ahead. No one’s going to stop you.”

King grinned. 

“But you should all know something first. I think of all of you like my family. Maddie, I know you’re afraid of the dark ever since you were a little girl. You know I always tried to get a fire going, always. I know your mother kicked you out at 16, I know your father tried to get you back after you turned but you couldn’t see him again, you were too afraid you would hurt him. Sal, I know you have too little girls you want to see again. I promised one day you’d see them. I think you have the control to visit them, I really do. Kip, you had such a bright future for yourself. I know you miss the work, I  _ know _ you miss your family.” Dean saw one of look away. Maybe they didn’t really want to do this… 

Billy continued. “We really were a family. King… you were my favorite.”

Dean saw King blink, surprised.

“You helped this family more than anyone, more than me. I truly believe you wants what’s best for us, but killing… it’s not the way.” Billy looked head-on into King. “ And killing me isn't’ going to regain the control of your nest. You see me as a threat. A problem you’re willing to part with.”

Billy sighed. “If you really want to kill me, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” He put a hand behind him. “But let these people go. They did nothing, just… wrong place, wrong time.”

“Why should I just let a hunter go?” King growled through his fangs.

“I’m not leaving you here to die,” Dean heard himself say.

“It’s okay, Dean,” was all Billy could say. “It’s okay.”

King laughed. “You really want to watch him die?” He stared at Billy, cold. “So be it.”

At the last word, King sprang into action, reaching for Billy. The shot that followed did nothing to slow King down. Billy didn’t have time to react before King got his hands into him. He picked him up and threw him head first into a tree. Dean acted fast, dropping the gun and reaching for the vial of blood in his pocket. 

“You think you could win?” King yelled at Billy. “You’re pathetic. I’m stronger than you ever were.”

Dean pushed off with his skis and stabbed King, right in the neck with the needle. King whirled around, hitting Dean square in the jaw before he could hit the plunger. 

Dean fell backward with such force, his legs got tangled in his skis, quite painfully. Dean was reeling with the hit before realizing the other vampires hadn’t moved an inch. They could have stopped him in an instant but they didn’t. 

Dean was hit by another blow before he could think anymore on that. 

“You should’ve gone when you had the chance,” King hissed above him. He was gearing up for another punch and Dean was ready to take it before a hand came around the syringe still stuck in King’s neck and shoved the plunger down. 

King immediately froze. Dean could see veins popping out of where the needle was sticking out from skin. Dean looked past him and saw the Doctor guy staring back.

\---

Dean got up with the help of Clara and the Doctor. The other vampires were crowded around Billy. 

“I’m sorry, Billy,” he heard one of them say. 

“I thought you were going to kill me,” Billy said, holding his head. 

“King didn’t say he wanted to kill you. He said he wanted to get you back. I guess he lied.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean said, holding his jaw. 

The vampires turned and looked at Dean. Dean ignored them and unlocked his skis and threw them aside. He was done with skiing. 

King was curled up in the snow, fighting the dead man’s blood.

“Where’s the body, man?” Dean asked him.

“What… body?” King managed to get out.

“Jenny Foster. Where’d you stash her? The yellow coat?”

“Yellow coat?” the girl with the blonde hair said. “I remember that kill. We’re not far from where we hid the body.”

“Jenny Foster? So she really is dead then?” Clara said. 

“Yeah,” Dean told her. “She is. You guys were asking about her. Why?”

“We take an interest in these sort of things,” the Doctor shrugged. “A phantom skier at a fun little resort?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said. “Loads of fun. You know you almost got yourself killed?”

“Nah, he wasn’t going to do anything.”

“You’d be surprised of what vamps can do.”

“So, vampires are real?” Clara asked.

“You saw for yourself,” Dean gestured at King, still feeling the pain in his jaw. At least he didn’t walk away from a bloody nose this time. 

“What’s the stuff you stuck in him?”

“Dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to them.”

The Doctor laughed. “Really? Cool…”

Something about the Doctor unnerved him. He didn’t have a healthy dose of fear like Clara did. 

“Billy. You okay?” Dean asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his head. “I don’t get it. Why don’t you want to kill me?” he asked his old nest. 

“Billy, we never wanted to kill you. We… missed you,” the older guy with tan skin said.

“You don’t know the guilt we’ve been having ever since you left,” Maddie said. 

“I just don’t want to kill again,” the brunette said. “I even thought about leaving, but I can’t imagine life without a nest.”

“What are you going to do about him?” Dean asked.

They all looked at King, struggling. 

“We just can’t leave him here.”

“Maybe we should,” Sal said, darkly. “Let him freeze.”

“He’s not going to die out here. How long will the blood last?” Billy said.

“It’s a pretty big dose, so… an hour and a half?” Dean answered. He leaned over and pulled out the syringe in a quick motion and cringed when King’s blood dribbled out of the open wound. 

“Sal and I will stay with him. Katie, Maddie, show him where the body is,” Billy said with a quick jerk of his head.

“Hold on a moment,” Dean said, not willing to put his skis back on just yet. “What’s going to happen now? I’m not going to just let you guys go. You’ve killed people. I can’t just let you go.”

“You’ve killed people too, Winchester,” Katie said. “Be thankful we’re not going to hurt you.”

“Dean, I’ll make sure they won’t drink human blood again.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Believe me, you’ll know. I know how good of a tracker hunters are, especially you and your brother. I don’t want any trouble.”

Dean thought for a moment, freezing his ass off in the snow. He was definitely outnumbered. Plus they knew where the body was stashed. Billy was right. He didn’t like it, but if they did go back on their word, Sam and Dean would be on them like a mosquito on hot, sweaty skin. 

Maybe he didn’t want to be in the snow anymore. 

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Billy, you’re lucky I trust you, man.” He didn’t trust the other vamps and especially not King. It looked like they were going to keep him alive. But Dean didn’t have any other choice. 

Plus, he saw how Billy stepped between him and King. Not many people- certainly not any vamps- were willing to do that for him. He appreciated the balls on him, at least. 

Jesus, he knew this guy for what? A day? And he was letting a whole nest of vampires go. What was happening to him?

He sure as hell was getting softer. 

“Okay. Where’s this body at?”

“West of here. It won’t take long,” Maddie said.

“We’re coming too,” Clara said. 

“No. No way,” Dean said. “You don’t want to see this. The body’s probably going to be half preserved by the cold. It’s going to be nasty. You’re going back to the lodge. Now.”

“Uh, what exactly are you going to do with the body?” the Doctor asked.

\---

Dean couldn’t get rid of the damn accents. They insisted with coming along. Dean couldn’t believe how dangerously stupid they both were, getting all buddy-buddy with vampires while seeing a dead body. 

_ Oh, God, we’re all going to die,  _ Dean thought to himself after a quick call to Sam to tell him what happened. He was sure th vampires were going to attack, but they didn’t. He sure as hell wished he packed more blood. 

They skied horizontally as the two vampires pushed through the snow at a rapid speed ahead of them. The trees were getting thicker at this part; sometimes they even blocked out the sky. 

Dean, Clara, and the Doctor cross-country skied across the Colorado mountains. By the time they got to their destination, Dean was out of breath and feeling very hot inside his snow wear.

“She’s here,” Maddie pointed towards a rocky outcropping covered in snow. 

Dean moved closer and much to his annoyance, so did Clara and the Doctor. 

Under the ledge was a crumpled body, the yellow coat Jenny wore stark against the snow. 

Dean winced as he got closer and saw dried blood on the top of her coat. What a nasty way to die, being feasted on by vampires. 

Dean dusted her with a little bit of Morton while her practical killers were staring right at him. He took out his lighter.

“What are you doing?” Clara asked.

“The salt purifies the body,” Dean explained. “Her spirit won’t be bothering anyone anytime soon.” 

Goddamn it. The lighter just kept sparking, the flame wouldn’t catch.

“Here, let me,” the Doctor said, pushing off closer, grabbing something from his jacket. 

It was a pair of sunglasses.

What the fuck?

The Doctor crouched close to Dean and put the sunglasses on, staring at a spot at Jenny’s coat. A high-pitched humming noise came from them, which left Dean more confused.

Then Jenny’s coat burst into flame.

“What the-” Dean shot up and almost fell over from the speed of it. “How did you do that?”

The Doctor smiled and took off the glasses. “You aren’t the only one with tricks up their sleeves. How does plunging blood of a dead man incapacitate a vampire anyway?”

Dean was surprised. “Uhhhh…”

“How long do they have to be dead in order for it to work?” Clara asked. “A vampire can’t drink a dead person’s blood? So they can’t kill a person, they have to keep them alive?”

“Uh...yeah.”

“What about dead woman’s blood? Does that have the same affect?”

Jesus, who were these people?

“Uh, yeah, it does.” In actuality, Dean had no idea. They always used men’s blood, when they did use it. Usually, they chopped off the head of anything that had fangs, but meeting Billy complicated some things. 

Clara and the Doctor shared a look, one that made Dean feel like he said something stupid. His questions made him think. Why hadn’t he bothered to think about those things before?

They all watched the body burn.

“What are you guys going to do with King?” Dean found himself asking. 

“What do you mean?” Maddie said.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“No, of course not.”

This bothered Dean. King and his nest killed people. He wasn’t comfortable with letting them go. Did he trust Billy enough to keep them in line?

“He’s not all the way gone, Winchester. Just a little lost,” Katie said.

Dean didn’t agree with that, but Katie’s glare ended the conversation. 

\---

Dean gave Maddie and Katie his number and that was that. 

Clara, the Doctor, and Dean skied the rest of the way down the mountain together. It was uneventful, other than the fact that Dean’s whole body was sore. He never wanted to ski again.

The run was longer than average and by the time they reached the lodge, Dean was out of breath- again- and more thankful than ever to see the large, brown building peeking out beneath the snow.

Sam was there waiting for them at the end of the run. 

“What happened up there?” he asked.

“Oh, you know,” Dean said. “Same old, same old. Angry vampires, got the shit beat out of me, almost died. This guy saved my life.” Dean pointed a thumb at the Doctor.

“Nice,” Sam said with a little humor. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam, Dean’s brother. Are you guys hunters?”

“No, no. We’re just passing through.” The Doctor shook Sam’s hand. “Your work is the most interesting I’ve come across, though. You… hunt vampires?”

Dean shrugged. “Among other things. Sam, this is Clara and Doctor…”

“Just the Doctor.”

“Right. What even brought you to this side of the world? You sound like you’re far from home.”

“Oh, Clara isn’t but Earth is like a second home to me.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance. 

“Uh, Earth?” Sam said.

Clara suddenly elbowed the Doctor in his side.

“Ow. Um, actually, we may need some of your services,” the Doctor said very quickly.

“Oh. You do?”

“Yes. We, uh, have a little problem that might concern you. You don’t have to agree, but your brother seems very capable in the times of pressure. I assume your work forces you to be, but we were just wondering…”

“Come on, Doctor, just get to the point,” Clara said.

“We, ah, have a… hunt that you might want to check out.”

Confused, Dean said. “What kind of hunt?”

“Hm, that, uh, needs a little bit of explanation.”

“The thing is, you may not believe it,” Clara blurted out.

Dean chuckled as Sam let out a small smile.

“Lady, if I had a dime every time I heard that,” Dean said. “Trust me, whatever it is, we can handle it.”

Clara and the Doctor shared the same knowing look again. It was starting to get on Dean’s nerves.

“What’s the job?” Sam asked.

“Er, we’ll have to show you something first,” the Doctor said.

\---

“What is that?” Dean asked.

“What do you think it looks like?” Clara said, poking Dean’s side. “It’s a box.”

“It’s a police telephone box. They were widely used in the 1960’s, but they’re out of commission today.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes. “How the hell did you get it in here?”

“You’ll have to find out.” Clara wiggled her eyebrows as she stepped past Sam and Dean.

Whatever the Doctor and Clara wanted to show them was inside the lodge. They turned in their skis and headed upstairs and past an Employees Only door and into some sort of storage room filled with extra Christmas decorations. There they found the box, snug between a white but sparse Christmas tree and boxes upon boxes that were labeled ‘Lights’.

Clara stood by the Doctor. They were framing the box, a curious look in both of their eyes. They were excited. Dean didn’t see what the big deal was with the box.

“I don’t get it,” he said, deadpan. 

“They never do, at first,” the Doctor said. With a smile, he turned and opened the door.

Orange light spilled out from the box and Sam and Dean hesitantly rushed forward once the original shock wore off.

After a few seconds, Sam started to say: “What the-”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed. 

They both stopped in front of the doorway. The inside of the box was huge- sleek, metal,  _ sci-fi-ey. _

It was then Dean realized they were totally out of their element.

Inside was a whole other world. Catwalks lead to the center of the box-that-wasn’t-really-a-box. A hexagonal console stood in the center with a long glass tube with glowing orange sticks in the middle. The second floor contained a library- books upon books were tucked neatly into bookshelves. More hexagons covered the walls like wallpaper. The ceiling expanded into what seemed like forever upward. 

Before Dean could  _ get the hell out of there _ his brother walked right on in, looking at the tall ceiling. 

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Um, the TARDIS really doesn’t go for foul language,” the Doctor said, following after him. 

Dean was still in the doorway, looking around incredulously. “The what?”

“Time and Relative Dimension in Space,” the Doctor turned around and said. 

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“It’s a-”

“-Time machine,” Sam said, studying the console. “It’s a time machine? That can go...anywhere?”

The Doctor smiled. “You guessed it.”

A time machine… well, they certainly walked into crazier.

“What do you think?” Clara whispered to him, still in the doorway.

“It’s… huge,” Dean said in reply.

“I know, right?” Clara said in excitement. ”It’s bigger on the inside!”

“Yeah. I can see that.” Dean stepped cautiously onto the catwalk, looking around. It didn’t seem… dangerous. Nothing was popping out at them, so it wasn’t a trap. These guys maybe a little bit crazy, but it seemed like they were telling the truth. Still wasn’t sure about the time travel part. Only angels could time travel. Were they angels? Did they trap an angel inside their machine to go whenever they wanted? Oh, god, Dean was crazy too. Well, after today, he might as well be. He just let a whole nest of vampires go.

Sam was asking the Doctor questions. “What exactly do you guys do?”

The Doctor shrugged. “We travel.”

“Help those in need,” Clara said behind Dean, arms crossed.

“Maybe have some fun in the process. So, what do you say? Want to go on a trip?”

“Where exactly do you have in mind?” Sam asked.

“What? No. No way! We’re not going.”

“Oh, come on, Dean. Don’t you want to have some fun?”

“Fun? While Amara is threatening to eat the universe? I don’t think we have some time for some fun,” Dean practically shouted.

“Dean. It’s a frickin’  _ time machine _ .”

“Yeah, so he says.”

“Thirteenth of March, 2070,” the Doctor said.

“What about it?”

“That’s the date a ship was leaving Earth, bringing new colonists and supplies heading to the Martian colony.”

Jesus, every word of that sounded phony.

“Yeah? And?”

“They found an unidentified object floating around in space. They took it in. And the ship never arrived.”

Dean frowned, hooked. “On Mars? Do they know what happened to it?” 

Or was it  _ will _ they know what will happen to it? Time travel, man.

The Doctor shook his head, once. “Not a clue. The ship lost contact with both Earth and Mars simultaneously. They never found it.”

“Do  _ you _ know what happened to it?”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Dean repeated. “So, we’re going to go on a ship-  _ in space _ \- that mysteriously disappears like it was in the Bermuda Triangle? No way.”

“Oh, come on Dean.” Sam said to him.

“Really? You're seriously thinking about this? We’ve been in some nasty situations, man, but to you’re  _ willingly  _ going to let them take you into  _ space _ ? Come on, that’s something I’m never going to do.”

“Exactly, Dean. We get to go in  _ space _ . It’s something we’re never going to  _ do _ .”

Dean couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that Sam was so taken with the idea, so quick to hold on to whatever these people said.

“There was over three hundred people on that ship, Dean.” The Doctor said, out of the blue. Ooh. He knew that would hit him. Dean was uncomfortable how quick the Doctor got a read on him, got a read on both of them.

“See?” Sam said, eyes practically pleading with Dean.

“And why haven’t you gone there before?” Dean asked with trepidation.

“Honestly?” Clara said. “We’ve been too afraid to go on there before. We don't know what’s up there, but there’s something going on, and the Doctors’ been waiting to have a go at it for ages.”

“Great, just great.” Dean spun around aimlessly. “Am I the only sane one around here?” He shouted at no one.

“So… is it a yes?” Sam said hopefully after he was done.

Dean looked at him for a second and sighed. “Alright, Sammy, for you. I’ll get  _ Total Recall _ ed and get my eyeballs sucked out just so you can see the frickin’ stars. You know they’re fine from down here, you know.”

“No,” Clara said. She smiled. “They’re not the same.”

To see the stars… Sam and Dean definitely had their trips to the past, but never the future. The thought of seeing the future suddenly gave him a shock of excitement. Something he didn't feel very often. But he also knew time travel was dangerous. It was something that couldn't happen without astronomical power. And he had met those types of people before. And they were dicks. How did they know they could trust them? Of course, Clara and… the Doctor, if that was really his name, certainly didn't look the part of something that had the power to time travel. 

But looking at Sam, starting up at up at the TARDIS ceiling that seemed to go up forever, he realized how much his brother wanted this. He just wanted the help people again. And Dean wanted that too. 

“If you don’t believe me, here.” The Doctor began to move to the console, typing something in. A few seconds later, a sheet of paper appeared from the slot in the console. Apparently the time machine was a printer too. He took it out of the slot and waved it at Dean. 

“Transcript of news report in 2070.” He handed it to Dean, who read it slowly, taking in every word.

_ For our final story tonight: the president announced today that the United States and China will be launching a joint mission working on the colonization of Mars. After the years of discussion and debate over Mars’ territory, President Claymore said, “It's time to start looking towards the future of Mars instead of old rivalries that are preventing us to do so.” Seventy families will make the trip, both of either U.S. or Chinese origin and will ultimately make history: this is the first time there will be non-scientific or engineering professions of the people in the colony living on the red planet, and will be a huge leap for creating an off-world society that will rival the moon's. Launch will be set in early 2070, 11 years after the failure Bowie Base One. _


End file.
